Rusted Blood - jeanmarco
by mistycznywidelec
Summary: [Western setting, a commission] Jean - a determined cowboy with a a goal set in his mind and a chain dragging him down. Marco - a newcomer on the Ranch, who joined the workers in a difficult time. Both find themselves in a situation with seemingly no exits, threatened by dangers that come from outside the fence - and from within.
1. Walled

**An old one - wrote for an old friend. Back from when I used to write many, many SnK one shots and fics. Don't beat me - I'm not a native speaker, and will appreciate any notes and feedback!**

* * *

Inhale.

Exhale.

The basis of human existence, breathing.

Inhale.

If it was so easy, and natural, why wasn't he able to execute it?!

Exhale.

He coughed again. This time heavily, he had a hunch that few drops of blood landed on a dusty ground before him.

Breathe.

"Jean!"

High pitched shout came to his ears. When he recognized the owner of this voice, fell relived on a hay covering the stable floor. He felt like shit - every cough drained him from his strength and dried his lungs, which now burned like a fire.

Armin ran up to him.

"Jean! How do you feel?"

The taller boy stood up on soft knees.

"I'm fine." He said. "It's nothing more than the last time."

The younger looked at him with concern.

"Maybe you should go see the doctor? He's not far away, in a next town.."

"Armin, it's fine, I swear! There's no need!"

Jean shook his head and grabbed a harness handing on the door.

"Come on. Master Ackerman will kill us if we won't have the work done."

* * *

Cold morning air cleansed his burned lungs. Fog floated over the frozen ground, covering silhouettes of horses cutting through. Jean could see his breath, and hell, he was happy about it. It wasn't the first time he got an attack like that, but first someone actually came for him.

He looked at Armin.

The boy seemed worried, but did not look back at Jean, he was rather keeping horses in sight.

The taller cowboy opened his mouth as he was about to say something, but suddenly a loud, drawn-out whistle interrupted him.

"Had fun talking to your friends, horsey?!"

Jean sweared to God above, there was no voice in the whole world that would make him more irritated than this particular one.

"Shut your ass, Jeager."

The two walked to the fence, where Eren and Mikasa were waiting for them - both had already saddled up their horses, now just stood there, arms propped on the creaky wood.

Eren was chewing on a blade of grass.

"The new kid is gonna be here today." He said to Jean. "Somebody must go and get him from The White Rock."

Mikasa glanced at Armin, who kept himself slightly behind his taller friend.

"Maybe you, Armin? You'll make a good first impression."

The smaller one shook his head.

"I-I think I won't be able to fight off any possible bandits we can encounter. How about you, Eren?"

"Why is it always me?" The boy jumped and sat on the fence. "If it was tomorrow, then I'd be glad to go, but master Ackerman needs me today."

Mikasa nodded and pointed at Jean.

"So it's you."

"Hey!"

Armin stood before Jean, what surprised not only him, but the two too.

"Jean can't go! He's-"

A hand in his mouth successfully stopped him from emitting any further words.

"I'm fine. And if there's no other option, I'll go."

Jean adjusted his hat, walking to the course, and whistled. A young mare came to him.

"Way to go, Clyde."

Eren muffled his laughter.

"It's a she, don't you know?"

"Shut up. How could I guess it then?"

He jumped on the horse with quite an effort - his hands still shivered, and his lungs still burned. He swallowed, and was also pretty sure he'd tasted the copper scent of blood.

Eren patted Armin on the shoulder, bragging his attention away from Jean.

"Come on." He said cheerfully, like depressive weather hadn't any affect on him. "We gotta drive the cattle onto the pasture, or else master will have us sliced up into tiny pieces and served with chicken soup."

He was right - their supervisor had very specific ways of dealing with insubordination.

"Hey!" Jean called out to the leaving three, as he was about to ride to the path. "What's his name?"

Eren turned around on his heel.

"I don't know! Mark? Marcus...?"

"Marco." Mikasa cut, taking the reins of her mare. "Marco Bodt."

* * *

After a longer while Jean rode his mount on a dusty road leading to White Rock. He somehow enjoyed this strange feeling of loneliness, like he was fed up with other people and their annoying voices.

"Marco." He tasted the name on his blood covered tongue. "Got it."

Few horse's steps further, and his silhouette completely disappeared in the thick fog.


	2. Welcomed

**Ok. Everything starts here.**

 **Sorry for any grammar or vocab mistakes, you know, not everything can be checked.**

* * *

After a half of an hour the fog finally started to thin down and Jean somehow could look farther than one horse length. He passed a few well known to him landmarks, delighting ubiquitous silence.

He caught himself on thinking about this Marco kid.

If he ended up on Smith's Ranch, it meant he's a foreigner with no place to go - the landlord had this strange tendency to employ all of those, who haven't had luck in the southern states. Therefore, their crew consisted of people with overly different looks and oddly sounded surnames, like his own.

It was very generous of the master, so they'd never questioned it. They could leave when they wanted to.

Hope this whole Bodt will appreciate this.

He didn't have a good feeling about him, but, he never did. Previous year, when they addmited a girl named Ymir, they made a mistake - addmitedly, she quickly befriend Crista, a house maid, but turned out she was absolutely useless in field.

Not that she was weak, oh darn no, she was strong like no one, but also unbelievably lazy and unreliable.

Jean had trust issues, when it came to new workers.

He soonly became surrounded by white hills appearing from the mist. Breathing deeply cold, heavy air, he fasten the horse and turned to a main road leading to the town.

He tried to loosen tensed muscles, but they still ached after the attack. - even breathing was an effort for him.

"Goddamnit." He cursed under his voice. "Why did I agree on this anyway?"

His cough pierced the silence.

"Ah. Armin."

He'd always wonder why this boy with a hair like a halo had so much concern for his person. They didn't grow up together, neither knew each other before landing on this god forgotten ranch. But - as far as he could remember, it was him who always worked with him, sometimes didn't leave his side for days.

It could get annoying sometimes.

Through the fog, Jean saw dim lights appearing from the town. He was closing. He tried to remind himself what master Ackerman said about the new recruit's appearance - his mind started working like a dusty old steam machine.

"Bodt's from western Europe. Southern France as I can tell, I haven't met him yet. Sure he looks like one heck of an European, tall, black hair."

Well, at least he could ride to town and pick up the most french-looking guy up there.

With confusion he entered the White Rock. Sun was almost fully on the horizon, and the mist have worn off. In the pale light, Jean could see the town hasn't changed much since his last visit there, despite of the governor's shallow promises. It was still like two rows of decaying teeth, growing out of a cold, dusty gum of ground. He didn't like the town at all - neither its dead, almost ghostly atmosphere, nor grouchy people living in its poorly built houses.

He was passing the sheriff's, when he heard someone calling out his name with a slight whistle.

He turned around.

"Howdy, mister Kirschtein!"

Hannes, one of sheriff Pixis' deputies, walked slowly to Jean's horse, with his prominent smirk drawing between red cheeks.

"Mornin', mister Hannes." Jean tipped his hat and inspected the man with his sight. "Are you drunk again?"

Hannes laughed.

"On my service? No way, boy! It's goddamn cold, that's it."

He patted the mare's head. Deputy Hannes was a common guess at the ranch, but he would rarely see master Smith - he'd often just come and check up on kids; Eren, Mikasa and Armin in particular. Sometimes even help them with work, out of the sight of master Ackerman.

"How long haven't you been here, Jean? It will be six months?"

The boy sighed, straightening in the saddle.

"Yeah... I've came here to get a new worker. Have you seen someone named Marco Bodt around here?"

Hannes shook his head.

"No, no Marcos here. Wait at the station, the train should arrive soon."

With a heavy sigh, Jean tighten the horse.

"Come on, Clyde."

And as he was leaving his companion, the boy could heard Hannes' surprise.

"But... that's a mare!"

Thud of hooves drowned his voice.

"Yeah, I know!"

* * *

The wood under his feet started to tremble, then creak in few places; birds took off at once, cutting the stiff air. There was something big coming.

And clrealy it was the train, considering the hour shown on a great clock on a station tower. Jean was sitting on a bench, squeezed between two proud, oversized citizens of White Rock and counted passing minutes, trying to save his breath.

He got to thirty six, when a huge, menacing monster, shiny from steam and breathing heat, rolled slowly on the station and stopped. People welcomed him with smirks and sighs of relief, and so did Jean, overjoyed that he wouldn't be crushed even more.

After a quick stretching, he pulled out a piece of paper with the newcomer's name on it from his pocket - and waited, observing the flow of people getting in and out of the train. The flow of high hairstyles, tweed, denim, linen, laces, leather, black and white.

Stomps of cowboy boots, and little steps of heels.

It took ages to replace all of the livestock, but eventually the monster started to roll away from the station.

And Jean stood like he was standing.

He adjusted his hat, and looked around nervously - the platform, excluding few people, who were already leaving, was completely empty. No signs of a tall European with black hair.

He crumbled the paper in his hands and threw it on the ground with passion.

Where the hell was he?!

Next train? No way, the next one was coming barely in the evening.

Master Ackerman will kill him for sure. And a death from master Ackerman's hands was one thing he was afraid of the most.

Jean ran his hand across his neck.

He again felt a clench in his stomach, like always, when he was about to get to know the consequences of screwing something up.

Well, there was no hope for him.

With a vision of Eren, choosing a suitable gravestone for him with a loud smile on his face, he began to walk off the platform.

But suddenly, he heard a rising sound of thud coming in his way, till it was to be heard precisely behind him.

Jean turned around to see a man on a horse.

"Pardon me," the man said, "Are you from Smith's Ranch?"

Jean measured him with sight. He sure suited the master's characterization - tall, European looking with a pinch of frenchness, black hair hidden under a black leather hat.

Hell, what thing attached to him wasn't black! His eyes, shirt, trench coat, trousers, boots, even horse were toned in this colour - and he would look like death personified, if there wasn't a contrasting wide grin on his face.

Jean looked at him suspiciously, despite his smile.

"Are you heading to Smith's Ranch?"

The stranger took off his hat, but not the stupid grin.

"My name is Marco Bodt. I'm here for a job."

Jean nudged his shoulders and nonchalantly turned around. The situation was stabilised, so there was no need to worry - now to transport the boy to the ranch. He seemed pretty annoying, though.

"Then follow me." He didn't even looked at him when going for his horse. "Name's Jean. Jean Kirschtein. You'll get to know the rules when we arrive."

Marco nodded wordlessly and watched him getting on Clyde.

Just before they took off, Jean allowed himself for a one second glance at the newcomer.

He didn't know what to expect. The boy was at his age, with olive hued skin and so deep dark eyes, one could drown in.

And the fact his cheeks were sprinkled with freckles made him look somewhat innocent, but not childish.

"Hm." He thought. "Let's see how this guy works."


End file.
